


WTIHK April Fools Chapters

by m_hart



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:06:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_hart/pseuds/m_hart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two chapters of silliness that pastelparnasse and pollenthroat wrote for WTIHK's april fools joke!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to have them saved somewhere since I'm removing them from the fic itself, haha.

Enjolras was acutely aware that the seven other people in the room were not looking at him.

They were looking at one another, chattering at their respective tables, filling the space with brightly pronounced drivel. Feuilly and Bahorel had joined Combeferre and Courfeyrac at the larger, central table and Joly, Bousset and Jehan remained tucked in a corner. The poet had their legs crossed and a faint flush still brushed across their cheeks. They were doing their best to provide him a curtain of privacy, if only atmospheric.

He scanned the room, his stomach twisting into knots and his hands twisting into the over-long sleeves of his sweater. Enjolras could feel the tension in the air, tighter and more suffocating every second that his friends kept their attention pointedly away from the doorway in which he stood.

I believe in you.

That fuck. Fucking bastard. He couldn’t actually say something like that. Not after everything, and certainly not after showing up to his meeting drunk as a sailor and spouting off ridiculous nonsense purely to wind him up. Why would he do that? Why did he care? Why was the blood in his stomach suddenly rushing south?

Enjolras shoved his hand into his pocket and grabbed his phone much tighter than necessary as his fingers automatically hit the call button, one arm wrapped around his stomach, hoping to stop his surge of arousal, and the other pressing the phone to his ear.

“Cosette-“ He started when her feather-light voice (there was hint of breathiness in it, and a tone unmistakable to her twin- she had been masturbating) answered. It came from far away, just barely able to cut through the static in his head.

“Ange? What’s the matter, love?” His voice caught in his throat and he managed no more than a sharp exhalation before he could hear the rustling of of his twin sitting up and snapping back to attention.

“Who do I need to kill-“

He hung up on her. What else could he really do? What could he possibly say? He snapped back to reality by a soft touch on his elbow. Jehan. He scowled at them, the evening light bracketing their wild hair in light the color of pink lemonade. Enjolras couldn’t help his eyes from being drawn down to the still noticeably large bump in their skirt and the small dark stain that beaded at the top. Now everyone was looking. They must have turned while he was on the phone- he hadn’t noticed. He bit down on his lip and turned sharply on his heel to leave, when suddenly a flurry of sound and light and brilliant darkness burst through the door.

\----------------------------------------

Cosette had Grantaire by the hair- literally dragging him through the door. He was struggling and protesting profusely, but despite their drastic size difference, he was failing to free himself from fragile Cosette’s far-from-fragile grip.

“-no, Grantaire. You are not leaving until the both of you work yourselves out. Now kiss.” She shoved him forward. In her rush to leave, she hadn’t bothered to even dress completely, her shirt sheer and her shorts barely enough to pass for more than panties themselves.

This was not the reunion Grantaire had imagined with Cosette. He had imagined light incarnate and sweet words, perhaps even a hug. But instead, he had been intercepted during his walk of pure shame by a sharp-eyed young woman who was far from happy to see him. Perhaps that was more of what he deserved. And he certainly hadn’t expected the last two words to leave her mouth before she stood, blocking the door with her arms crossed and her face tense.

He stared down at the tiny man before him, eyes wide and mouth agape. Enjolras stared back with a similar expression and worry writ across his brow. Perhaps it was the drink, the adrenaline, the surprise, or Cosette’s insistence, but he found himself leaning forward despite his better judgment. His lips were ghosted against Enjolras’ brow and his stomach leapt right into his throat.

“Permets tu?” He breathed against the perfectly neat furrowed skin there. He felt the subtlest of nods, and with his heart joining his stomach and lodging in his windpipe, he pressed his lips to Enjolras’ forehead. His stubbled chin brushed the blond boy’s nose and he felt some of the tension leave the small man in front of him. Someone gasped from the room behind them. There was a low whistle and the clap of a hand over someone else’s mouth.

As soon as the tension had left Enjolras’ brow, it was back again with a vengeance. He pushed Grantaire away and gave him a piercing glare, more painful than any Grantaire had ever felt- he felt his heart and stomach drop to be impaled upon his angel’s gaze before he was tugged fiercely back down by the hair and into a stiff, rough kiss, dominated by teeth and hard-pressed lips and the sharp pull of a small hand twisting in his hair and another gripping his shirt hard enough to rip. It was the most magnificent kiss of his miserable life.

He fumbled for a moment, willing his hands to do something other than grasp at air, wanting this to be good for Enjolras too, but wanting to take back control of himself before he drowned in this fiery soul that kissed him as if they were still exchanging harsh words and lashing at each other’s throats. Finally, his hands managed to rest at Enjolras’ waist, making the blond jump in surprise and gasp softly, a sound that had Grantaire both melting into a puddle and growling softly in victory as he sucked the air from Enjolras’ throat.

The Amis all watched, some in shock, and some just plain turned on. Jehan was one of the latter, and having held fast to their hard-on from Grantaire’s teasing, their hand drifted idly back down to palm at their crotch as they watched the two kiss with eyes wide and full of a mischievous spark. They moaned softly, and Courfeyrac glanced their way with a soft whine through Combeferre’s fingers (as his had been the mouth covered to stifle any commentary he may have had). Courf looked desperately back at Combeferre, squirming in his seat as Grantaire and Enjolras seemed to tumble across the room and crashed into a wall in a flurry of hands and desperate noises.

He looked back at Jehan, who’s eyes had drifted over to Courfeyrac, and away again suddenly with a vivid blush as they made eye contact. He whined again and met his boyfriend’s eyes. Combeferre’s lips were pursed in thought, and he slowly withdrew his hand, nodding in permission before Courfeyrac all but flew across the room and into Jehan’s arms, grinding their hips together and pulling the poet back over to Combeferre. They went willingly, melting into Courfeyrac’s arms and peppering his face with light kisses and brushes of their eyelashes, leaving streaks of mascara in their wake.

Combeferre stood just as Courf was about to pull Jehan into his lap. “I would prefer to watch for the time being. Why doesn’t Jehan give you a lap dance, hm?” He said calmly. Courfeyrac knew that tone of voice- it was no suggestion. Jehan was eager as they pushed Courfeyrac into Combeferre’s vacated chair by the shoulders and straddled his hips. Their skirt rucked up around their waist as they began to gyrate their hips, exposing lily-white thighs that Courfeyrac ran his hands over with a hum of appreciation. His erection grew against them as they swayed to the sounds of the furious making out going on behind them.

Cosette was giggling softly at the door when a knock came. She gasped and cracked it open. None of the lovers had stopped at the sound. In fact, Bahorel now had his hand down a blushing Feuilly’s pants, and Joly had moved to kneel under the table between Bousset’s knees.

Musichetta peered through the door, “What on earth is going on up here?” She asked, and Cosette was hard-pressed for an answer.

Luckily, Bousset had heard the voice of the Amazon and answered for her, “A miracle, truly. Enjolras and Grantaire have finally hit a wall. And found each other’s mouths. ”

Musichetta’s eyes widened just a bit. “No shit.” She pushed past Cosette and into the room, dark eyes scanning the scene and resting briefly on each of the couples. “Damn.” She breathed. “An’ you’re just watching?” She asked Cosette, the hint of suggestion not lost on the blonde at all. She answered by closing the door behind her and reaching up on her tip-toes to kiss Musichetta right on the lips. Bousset swore and tugged Joly up from where he was just getting into Bousset’s boxers and turned him around to look. His eyes went wide and his lips parted as Musichetta lifted the small woman up and Cosette wrapped her legs around Musichetta’s waist, neither one breaking the contact they had at the lips. Their hands tangled in each other's hair as they kissed deeply and sensuously.

Feuilly was the first to come- evidently whatever Bahorel had been doing down there was damn good, and his bitten-off moan into Bahorel’s shoulder broke the relative silence of heavy breathing and wet kisses. Bahorel chuckled and lifted his hand to lick off the evidence of Feuilly’s orgasm, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. This burst of sound broke whatever reservations the others had left about the situation, and Courfeyrac moaned as he bucked up into Jehan, obviously hard now in his pants.

“There’s a good boy.” Combeferre purred as he watched them.

Since we last left Enjolras and Grantaire, they had come to rest on a table, Enjolras all but climbing over Grantaire to straddle him as they still kissed and tore uselessly at each other’s clothes, scratching over exposed skin and tugging on hair. Enjolras’ golden locks had long ago fallen in a cascade to halo his face. They had said nothing to each other besides a few whispered swears and apologies, working out their frustration in other ways. Ways that involved Enjolras soaking through his boxers and Grantaire straining against his. Enjolras rutted against him as he sucked hard at Grantaire’s lip, chasing an orgasm that quickly approached and arrived suddenly with a gasp and a broken moan, his thighs tightening as he shook, forehead pressed to Grantaire’s, whose eyes were wide with surprise and pure lust for the other, trying desperately to rock his hips up into anything other than his pants- and failing.

As soon as Enjolras’ eyes had cleared, he moved down to- thankfully- focus on getting Grantaire’s pants open and cock out with a soft moan forming on his lips and a much louder one coming from Grantaire’s. Enjolras looked between his face and the head of his cock, where he had pulled back the skin to be met with a trickle of precome and hips bucking into his hand.

Musichetta had Cosette sat on the table in front of Joly and Bousset, one hand down the other girl’s shorts and rubbing her through her panties as they continued to kiss. Joly had disappeared back under the table and had barely gotten Bousset’s cock into his mouth before the other was coming into his throat with a moan, causing Musichetta to laugh into Cosette’s mouth and Joly to pop back up and give Bousset a sloppy, sticky kiss as he ground down against Lesgles’ thigh.

Combeferre had leaned back against the wall and was palming himself idly as he watched Jehan and Courfeyrac rock against each other. Any semblance of a lap dance had disappeared long ago and turned into desperate rutting, deep kisses, and hands roving underneath restrictive clothing. Courf’s cock was out and sliding between Jehan’s ass cheeks and over their hole, panties pushed aside. It was a pity, he thought, that no one had thought to bring lube. That could make the evening much more interesting. Neither Courfeyrac or Jehan were holding back in their moans, and Jehan murmured what sounded like broken poetry about the wonders of Courfeyrac’s cock, wet against their ass.

Ferre pushed off from the wall and stood by Courf’s shoulder, drawing Jehan’s chin up to look at him. They paused their murmuring to catch their breath as Combeferre looked them over, but their hips never once paused their movement. Their lips were red and their makeup smeared across both their face and Courfeyrac’s. Their hair was an absolute wreck. They were gorgeous.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He said, voice low, and they gasped, hips bucking harder into Courf’s stomach. “You wanna come, gorgeous? I bet you look even better when you come.” They whined and nodded before pressing their face into Courfeyrac’s shoulder and panting harder. Courf was mesmerized, gaze flitting back and forth between his boyfriend and the wondrous creature on his lap. Ferre tugged Jehan’s head back up. “Uh-uh. Neither you or Courf can come before I do.” This was met with a whine from Courfeyrac and a moaned, “yes, daddy,” from Jehan. Ferre swore and slowly undid his pants. Jehan’s eyes were glued to his crotch as he pulled out his cock, already hard and larger than any Jehan had seen before- and they had seen quite an assortment.

“Magnificent.” They breathed, leaning in and licking at the head. Ferre moaned softly, pushing his glasses back up on his nose to keep a clear view.

Grantaire had to tug Enjolras’ gorgeous mouth off of his cock after only a short while, lest the vigorous blowjob he was receiving bring an end to this heaven much too soon. Enjolras hummed in disapproval and licked his lips before standing and dropping his pants. This did nothing to calm Grantaire’s twitching cock as it leaked onto his stomach. He could come just looking at this beautiful person, he thought. He was helpless to fight back when Enjolras once again climbed up onto him and pressed back against him, slick coating his cock and the soft skin of Enjolras’ lips brushing deliciously over the bottom of his shaft.

Cosette’s head was thrown back and her shorts and panties had been discarded as Musichetta made fast work of her clit with an expert tongue, already having pushed her over the edge once and a second fast approaching. She came with a shout, thighs clamping on Musichetta’s head for dear life as she bucked into her waiting mouth. The blonde pulled back, panting for breath and grinning wildly, tugging Musichetta up for a kiss. Chetta rolled off and tugged her own soaked panties aside to press two fingers into herself with a moan. Joly was being brought off quickly at Bousset’s hand, and upon making eye contact with Musichetta as she pleasured herself, he bore down and rode through a strong wave of arousal that melted into an intense orgasm. Musichetta came with a gasp as she watched him drench Bousset’s hand and thigh (on his favorite pants, no less).

The much-neglected Bahorel was perfectly happy to watch the proceedings with Feuilly’s hand wrapped nice and tight around his cock, bringing him up to crest over his orgasm like a gentle wave that rocked him into pure pleasure.

Jehan was slowly working their mouth over Combeferre’s cock, hand stroking what they couldn’t yet reach. It would be a miracle, they thought, if they could really last long enough to bring Combeferre off before they released onto Courfeyrac. Their cock was aching after hours of teasing and leaking profusely. They had to pause their hips every few rocks to let their cock twitch and calm down. It didn’t seem that Courf was doing any better, his stomach muscles taut with the effort to keep from furiously fucking through Jehan’s legs and ass. A pleasant ache was growing in Jehan’s jaw as they swallowed and bobbed their head, pausing to lick through the slit and down the vein on the bottom. They could suck this cock for just about forever, they thought. It was this thought that was interrupted by a sharp inhale from Combeferre before he pulled out, fucking into Jehan’s fist and coming hard over their face with a swear.

Courfeyrac knew that this was his permission, and his hips began to pump faster and faster against Jehan, who moaned desperately as they ground against his stomach. Neither one lasted long, Courfeyrac pulsing and shooting out across the floor as Jehan squirmed and squirted between their bodies.

The only two left were the first to begin, and a loud crack interrupted the post-orgasmic reverie of the gathered crowd as the table upon which Enjolras and Grantaire were fucking like rabbits broke and spilled the two of them onto the floor. If Grantaire’s cock had left Enjolras’s hole for even a second, no one noticed, as they picked up the pace again, rolling over each other to establish dominance. Grantaire fucked desperately into Enjolras as the other wrapped his legs tight around R’s ass, before rolling and starting to ride him with fervor. The only thing indicating their recent fall had at all interrupted their coitus was that the hard glances and stiff grunts and curses shared between them had broken away to giggles and toothy smiles as they panted, both obviously close but neither one pausing until Enjolras let out a yelp and slammed down onto Grantaire, fluid spilling out as he came and squirted on Grantaire’s cock, short, aborted rocks of his hips punctuating each stream and pulse of his hole. R swore loudly, unable to hold off any longer, balls tight against his body and- finally- releasing into the wet, clenching heat around him.

Enjolras fell onto his chest, every so often rolling his hips lazily as his dick pulsed in aftershocks. All of the tension had gone out of their bodies, and slowly, one by one, the spectators started to clap. It was a sleepy, happy, orgasmic round of applause that rocked Enjolras and Grantaire into sleep right there on the floor of the Musain- sticky, soaked, and sated.

 

Softly, someone whispered through the din, “April Fools.”

 

the end.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi my name is Dmitry Dark’ness Dementia Gregoire Grantaire and I have short ebony black hair (that’s how I got my name) with greasy streaks and split ends that reaches my mid-neck and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like George Blagden (AN: if u don’t know who he is get da hell out of here!). I’m not related to the guy from Anastasia but I wish I was because he’s a major fucking hottie. I’m a realist but my opinions are swayed by angelic blonds. I’m also a thirsty gay, and I go to a cafe called Musain in Paris. I’m a nihilistic cynic (in case you couldn’t tell) and I wear mostly black. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow. I was walking outside the Cafe Musain. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Bonapartists stared at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

 

“Hey Grantaire!” shouted a voice. I looked up. It was…. Enjolras Fauchelevent!

 

“What’s up Enjolras?” I asked.

 

“Nothing.” he said shyly.

 

But then, I heard my friends call me and I had to go away.

 

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The next day I woke up in my bedroom. It was snowing and raining again. I opened the door of my coffin and drank some vodka from a bottle I had. My room was black ebony. I got out of my coffin and took of my giant Les Amis t-shirt which I used for pajamas. Instead, I put on a black leather jacket, a pentagram necklace, combat boots and black fishnets on. I put on four pairs of earrings in my pierced ears, and put my hair in a kind of messy bun.

 

My friend, Jehan, woke up then and grinned at me. She flipped her long shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair with pink streaks and opened her forest-green eyes. She put on her Marilyn Manson t-shirt with a black mini, fishnets and pointy high-heeled boots. We put on our makeup (black lipstick white foundation and black eyeliner.)

 

“OMFG, I saw you talking to Enjolras yesterday!” she said excitedly.

 

“Yeah? So?” I said, blushing.

 

“Do you like Enjolras?” she asked as we went out of our apartment and walked down the Place Saint-Michel.

 

“No I so fucking don’t!” I shouted.

 

“Yeah right!” she exclaimed. Just then, Enjolras walked up to me.

 

“Hi.” he said.

 

“Hi.” I replied flirtily.

 

“Guess what.” he said.

 

“What?” I asked.

 

“Well, General Lamarque is having a consert in the Rue Saint-Denis.” he told me.

 

“Oh. My. Fucking. God!” I screamed. I love Lamarque. They are my favorite band, besides Les Amis.

 

“Well…. do you want to go with me?” he asked.

 

I gasped.

 

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On the night of the concert I put on my black lace-up boots with high heels. Underneath them were ripped red fishnets. Then I put on a black leather minidress with all this corset stuff on the back and front despite the discomfort putting this on over my boots caused me. I put on matching fishnet on my arms. I straightened my hair and made it look all spiky. I listened to some depressing indie music while I waited for my alcohol to ferment and I listened to some Lamarque. I painted my nails black and put on TONS of black eyeliner. Then I put on some black lipstick. I drank some more wine so I was absolutely smashed in time for the concert.

 

I went outside. Enjolras was waiting there in front of his dad’s car. He was so tiny I just wanted to pick him up and carry him home wif me. He was wearing a Louis-Philippe t-shirt (they would shout a lot at the show too), baggy black skater pants, black nail polish and a little eyeliner (AN: A lot fo kewl boiz wer it ok!).

 

“Hi Enjolras!” I said in a depressed voice.

 

“Hi Grantaire.” he said back. We walked into his black Mercedes-Benz (the license plate said 1832) and flew to the place with the concert. On the way we listened excitedly to Lamarque and some other speeches. We both smoked cigarettes and drugs. When we got there, we both hopped out of the car. We went to the mosh pit at the front of the stage and jumped up and down as we listened to Lamarque.

 

“He hated Wellington with a straightforward hate that pleased the masses; and for seventeen years, scarcely paying any attention to intermediate events, he had magnificently maintained his sadness over Waterloo. In his death throes, at his final hour, he had hugged to his breast a sword that the officers of the Hundred Days had presented to him. Napoleon died uttering the word armée, Lamarque uttering the word patrie– homeland.” sang Victr Huugo (I don’t own da lyrics 2 dat song).

 

“Lamarque is so fucking hot.” I said to Enjolras, pointing to him as he made political points, filling the club with his amazing voice.

 

Suddenly Enjolras looked sad.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked as we moshed to the sounds of insurrection. Then I caught on.

 

“Hey, it’s ok I don’t like him better than YOU!” I said.

 

“Really?” asked Enjolras sensitively and he put his arm around me all protective.

 

“Really.” I said. “Besides I don’t even know Lamarque and he was a part of a battalion that sacked and burned the Vabres Cathedral.” I said disgustedly.

 

The night went on really well, and I had a great time. So did Enjolras. After the concert, we drank some beer and asked Lamarque and Huugo for their autographs and photos with them. We got political protest banners. Enjolras and I crawled back into the Mercedes-Benz, but Enjolras didn’t go back into the Place Saint-Michel, instead he drove the car into……………………… Montparnasse! (AN: da district not da man)

 

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“ENJOLRAS!” I shouted. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

 

Enjolras didn’t answer but he stopped the flying car and he walked out of it. I walked out of it too, curiously.

 

“What the fucking hell?” I asked angrily.

 

“Grantaire?” he asked.

 

“What?” I snapped.

 

Enjolras leaned in extra-close and I looked into his gothic red eyes (he was wearing color contacts) which revealed so much depressing political activism and fire and then suddenly I didn’t feel mad anymore.

 

And then…………… suddenly just as I Enjolras kissed me passionately. Enjolras climbed on top of me and we started to make out keenly against a tree. He took of my top and I took of his clothes. I even took of my hipflask. Then he put his thingie into my you-know-what and we did it for the first time.

 

“Oh! Oh! Oh! ” I screamed. I was beginning to get an orgasm. We started to kiss everywhere and my body became all warm. And then….

 

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!”

 

It was……………………………………………………. Valjean!

 

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Valjean made and Enjorlas and I follow him. He kept shouting at us angrily.

 

“You ludacris fools!” he shouted.

 

I started to cry tears of vodka down my pallid face. Enjolras comforted me. When we went back to the castle Valjean took us to Professor Vajert and Professor Fountain who were both looking very angry.

 

“They were having sexual intercourse in Montparnasse!” he yelled in a furious voice.

 

“Why did you do such a thing, you mediocre dunces?” asked Professor Fountain.

 

“How dare you?” demanded Professor Vajert.

 

And then Enjolras shrieked. “BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!”

 

Everyone was quiet. Valjean and Professor Fountain still looked mad but Professor Vajina said. “Fine. Very well. You may go up to your room Enjorly.”

 

Enjy and I went upstairs while the teachers glared at us.

 

“Are you okay, Grantiare?” Enjolras asked me gently.

 

“Yeah I guess.” I lied. I went back to my house and brushed my teeth with my hair and changed into a low-cut black floor-length dress with red lace all around it and black high heels. Jehan wasn’t there so I decided to go out and get a drinkk. When I came out….

 

Enjolras was standing in front of the bathroom, and he started to sing ‘I just wanna live’ by Good Charlotte. I was so flattered, even though he wasn’t supposed to be there. We hugged and kissed. After that, we said goodnight and he reluctantly went back into his room.

 

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The next day I woke up in my room. I put on a black miniskirt that was all ripped around the end and a matching top with red skulls all over it and high heeled boots that were black. I put on two pairs of skull earrings, and two crosses in my ears. I spray-painted my hair with dry shampoo.

 

In the Cafe Musain, I was filling up my hipflask with good wine rather than the shit I had at home. Suddenly someone bumped into me. All the quality alcohol spilled over my top.

 

“Bastard!” I shouted angrily. I regretted saying it when I looked up cause I was looking into the pale face of a gothic boy with spiky black hair. He was wearing so much eyeliner that I was going down his face and he was wearing black lipstick. He could finally afford black clothes even though I knew Courfeyrac had lent him the money to buy it all but I didn’t say anything. He had a manly stubble on his chin. He knew how. He looked exactly like Eddie Redmayne except he didn’t at all. He was so sexy that my body went all hot when I saw him kind of like an erection only I’m really gay for Enjolras so I didn’t get one you sicko.

 

“I’m so sorry.” he said in a shy voice.

 

“That’s all right. What’s your name?” I questioned.

 

“My name’s Marius Pontmercy, although most people call me Booby these days.” he grumbled.

 

“Why?” I exclaimed.

 

“Because I kind of am a booby.” he giggled.

 

“Well, I don’t like boobies.” I confessed.

 

“Really?” he whimpered.

 

“Yeah.” I roared.

 

We sat down to talk for a while. Then Enjolras came up behind me and told me he had a surprise for me so I went away with him.

 

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Enjolras and I held our pale white hands with black nail polish as we went upstairs. I was wearing red Satanist sings on my nails in red nail polish. I waved to Booby. Dark misery was in his depressed eyes. I guess he was jealous of me that I was going out with Enjolras. Anyway, I went upstairs excitedly with Enjolras. We went into his room and locked the door. Then…………

 

We started frenching passively and we took off each others clothes enthusiastically. He felt me up before I took of my top. Then I took off my inexplicably acquired bra that I didn’t mention putting on this morning and he took off his pants. We went on the bed and started making out naked and then he put his boy’s thingy in mine and we HAD SEX. (c is dat stupid?)

 

“Oh Enjolras, Enjolras!” I screamed while getting an orgasm when all of a sudden I saw a tattoo I had never seen before on Enjolras’s arm. It was a black heart with an arrow through it. On it in bloody gothic writing were the words………… Booby!

 

I was so angry.

 

“You bastard!” I shouted angrily, jumping out of the bed.

 

“No! No! But you don’t understand!” Enjolras pleaded. But I knew too much.

 

“No, you fucking idiot!” I shouted. “You’re probably sucking Napoleon’s dick too!”

 

I put on my clothes all huffily and then stomped out. Enjolras ran out even though he was naked. He had a really big you-know-what but I was too mad to care. I stomped out and did so until I was in Booby’s classroom where he was having a lesson with Professor Vajert and some other people.

 

“BOOBY PONTMERCY YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” I yelled.

 

Everyone in the class stared at me and then Enjolras came into the room even though he was naked and started begging me to take him back.

 

“Grantaire, it’s not what you think!” Enjolras screamed sadly.

 

My friend B’leponine Thenardier smiled at me understatedly. She flipped her long waste-length gothic black hair and opened her crimson eyes like blood that she was wearing contact lenses on. She had soft brown skin that she was wearing white makeup on.

 

“What is it that you desire, you ridiculous dimwit!” Vajert demeaned angrily in his cold voice but I ignored him.

 

“Booby, I can’t believe you cheated on me with Enjolras!” I shouted at him.

 

Everyone gasped.

 

I don’t know why Grantaire was so mad at me. I had went out with Booby (I’m bi and so is Grantaire) for a while but then he broke my heart. He dumped me because he liked Cosette, a stupid preppy fucker who is also kind of my twin sister oops??? We were just good friends now. He had gone through horrible problems, and now he was gothic. (Haha, like I would hang out with a Bonapartist.)

 

“But I’m not going out with Enjolras anymore!” said Booby.

 

“Yeah fucking right! Fuck off, you bastard!” I screamed. I ran out of the room and into Montparnasse where I had lost my virility to Enjolras and then I started to bust into tears.

 

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I was so mad and sad. I couldn’t believe Enjolras for cheating on me. I began to cry against the tree where I did it with Enjolras.

 

Then all of a suddenly, an horrible man with red eyes and no nose and everything started flying towards me on a broomstick! He didn’t have a nose (basically like Capitalism in the movie) and he was wearing all black but it was obvious he wasn’t gothic. It was…… Capitalism!

 

“No!” I shouted in a scared voice but then Capitalism shouted “Corporations!” and I couldn’t run away.

 

“Ethical consumption despite political corruption in a capitalist consumerist government!” I shouted at him. Capitalism fell of his broom and started to scream. I felt bad for him even though I’m a sadist so I stopped.

 

“Grantaire.” he yelled. “Thou must kill Booby Pontmercy!”

 

I thought about Booby and his sexah eyes and his gothic black hair and how his face looks just like but not at all like Eddie Redmaybe. I remembered that Enjolras had said I didn’t understand, so I thought, what if Enjolras went out with Booby before I went out with him and they broke up?

 

“No, Capitalism!” I shouted back.

 

Capitalism gave me a gun. “No! Please!” I begged.

 

“Thou must!” he yelled. “If thou does not, then I shall kill thy beloved Enjolras!”

 

“How did you know?” I asked in a surprised way.

 

Capitalism got a dude-ur-so-ridiculous look on his face. “I hath telekinesis.” he answered cruelly. “And if you doth not kill Booby, then thou know what will happen to Enjolras!” he shouted. Then he flew away angrily on his broomstick.

 

I was so scared and mad I didn’t know what to do. Suddenly Enjolras came into the district.

 

“Enjolras!” I said. “Hi!”

 

“Hi.” he said back but his face was all sad. He was wearing white foundation and messy eyeliner kind of like a pentagram (geddit) between Aaron Tveit and Ramin Karimloo.

 

“Are you okay?” I asked.

 

“No.” he answered.

 

“I’m sorry I got all mad at you but I thought you cheated on me.” I expelled.

 

“That’s okay.” he said all depressed and we went back into Saint-Michel together making out.

 

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I was really scared about Cpalitisms all day. I was even upset went to rehearsals with my gothic metal band Bloody Gothic Rose 666. I am the lead singer of it and I pppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

 

(By Dmitry Gregoire Grantaire, age 21, very very drunk. Proofreading by Jehan Prouvaire, also very very drunk)


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